Hi guys!
Sorry for the delay, my beta and I have been very busy but finally... here's another chapter! Hopefully soon I'll upload the next one.
So, this will happen after Laura's true identity is discovered. Here will be showed a new face of Lord Maeglin.
We all know who was him and what he did but... he wasn't only the Son of the Wife-Slayer or the Half Dark Elf, he was in his moment a good friend... let's see what happens.
Waiting for your reviews, guys! As you know, they're the food of this story.
Oh! And by the way, thanks for your useful reviews d'elf!
Chapter 37: 'You're Like a Butterfly'
Three years later…
She watched the Sun track its course into the West, her head in her arms. Denuded trees surrounded her cottage, their naked shapes standing out from the snow like charcoal outlines. The sun was sinking below her line of sight, and a red light was seeping through the branches.
Laura wanted this to be over. She hated rotting in this hollow cube of stone, consigned to slow and deathless mercy.
Staring at the trees, now black silhouettes, she wondered, as she had wondered for months, what had happened at the council. They had wanted to kill her; she had wanted that too. They had wanted to lock her in a dungeon. She tried to encourage that idea. Yet somehow mercy was her undoing, and she sat in this pretty cottage.
She was sitting here because Glorfindel had spoken in her favor. Gondolin's Darling had stayed Turgon's hand, for some reason, and let her live.
And that was it. That was the end.
Maeglin stood on the cottage's threshold, his ash-streaked face bathed in the cold crimson of the dying sun. He was not looking forward to the encounter. At this point, the woman was like a sick dog, who sits in a dark corner, ready to bite if you put your hand in. But Alassë had insisted, both gravely and firmly, and Maeglin was used to doing whatever Alassë insisted on. She was like a lantern; so bright she showed him the good in others, and in himself. She gave him the approval no one else had ever given him, not even Aredhel. His mother had never wanted to be a mother. He had known this from babyhood, and it had made him feel cheated of something essential, something that Alassë was able to give to him.
He knocked on the door, a quick, firm rap. There was no sound from inside, but he could sense the woman's presence, a warm, living aura that her body gave off.
"Laura," he said, "Open the door, please. I need to speak to you."
There were footsteps. Then the door opened a crack and Laura looked at him with blank eyes. Those eyes made him worry for her. They were frozen over like winter puddles, biologic contraptions devoid of life.
"Can I come in?" he inquired gently, offering her a smile.
She didn't make any sign, only opened the door and stepped aside to let him pass.
The cottage was impeccably clean; it was the tenant that was in shambles. Her black hair was a fractious tangle, with a dull, dirty half-shine, and her face told him she had taken a giant stride away from life. Her eyes have frozen over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing them of their usual warmth. He knew she was in there but she was too far away, drowning in her uncried tears.
Maeglin dropped his smile and said, "I see you are not inclined towards niceties at the moment, so I will cut straight to the heart. I brought you a gift."
Laura stared at him, her face unresponsive. Maeglin held out an egg, a perfect ovoid the size of his hand, made of plain iron. It seemed to have no seams and no anomalies except a small flower-shaped piece at the peak. Laura glanced from him, to the egg, and then looked back at him with the same blank apathy. She took the egg when he held it out to her, and turned it over in her hands, looking for joints or unions. Eventually, she pressed the center of the tiny flower at the tip, and Maeglin watched the apathy drain from her face as the egg opened, unfurling to display a golden inside. Inside a beautiful butterfly spread its wings, forged from gold and set with many-colored gems. He smiled at her infinite astonishment and pointed to the window ledge, where the last rays of the dying sun still lay.
When she set it down, turning it so the light would shine on the butterfly's bejeweled wings, an iridescent rainbow sprang into being, illuminating the room with a myriad of colors.
After a minute Maeglin touched the woman's shoulder, and when she turned to look at him he watched her face anneal back into stone.
"You are wondering why I brought you this," he said. "I brought you the butterfly because you are like a butterfly. What was done to you kept you trapped inside a shell, but I believe inside there is a butterfly with a thousand colors on her wings. But the only way a grub becomes a butterfly is because she is willing to give up everything she knows and try to fly. You are arrogant and insolent, Laura, and if a fraction of what you told us was true, then you have done terrible things. But you also chose to save Glorfindel over saving yourself. Your first instinct was to help him, and I believe that shows you have a good heart."
"That's a sweet sentiment, Lord Maeglin," Laura said, her gaze locked on the butterfly again. The sun had set now, and all the light had drained from its wings. "But do you remember what else happened at the Council?"
"Yes, I remembered that you were cruel and stone-cold. But I believe that stems from how you see yourself."
"I am a killer. That's how society sees me and that's how I see myself," Laura said slowly. "And I don't believe killers should be forgiven."
"Neither do I, so let me tell you a story you have probably read about. Do you know what Fëanor and his children did? They slaughtered a city of innocents. And they were raised in paradise, not trained to kill. They were killers, but you were only a result of how you were raised. Laura, if you want to be forgiven, you have to forgive yourself. Accepting yourself and your past is the only way you can begin a new life."
He saw the woman's shoulders slump, and then a tear fell onto the butterfly's gorgeous wings. "Thank you," she murmured, in a low, choked voice, still not turning to him. "Thank you for remembering me, Lord Maeglin."
"Look at me," he instructed, and Laura slowly obeyed him. He smiled at her again and said, "My friends call me Maeglin."
Slow, warm gratitude spread across Laura's face, lighting up her eyes. She swallowed several times, and then muttered, "Thank you. Thank you for everything, Maeglin."
He nodded, and when he was at the door, turned back and said, "By the by, Alassë sends you her greetings."
Laura smiled as unexpected warmth rushed through her blood like a candle had been rekindled in her heart. Being forgotten was a kind of death, and it felt heavenly to be remembered.
"Have a blessed night, Laura," the Elf-Lord said and left. She stood at the window, watching him until he disappeared into the night, the egg in her hands. The butterfly was beginning to glitter again as the moonlight struck it, and it was at that moment she promised herself she would forgive herself, so society would forgive her, and above all, that Glorfindel would forgive her.
A face of Lord Maeglin that people didn't know, right? Let's see how this friendship develops. Which is quite interesting because firstly, Lord Glorfindel (Gondolin's Darling and the half-Vanya) became her friend when she used her facade; and it's now quite the opposite (the ugly duckling and half-Dark Elf) who has became her first friend.
As always, waiting for your reviews, guys!